


The Echo of Legends

by OlkarianPrincess



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Compliant, Clones, F/M, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Legends, Love Triangles, Nothing but angst, Past Lives, RIP, Read at Your Own Risk, Reincarnation, Season/Series 05, Soulmates, Unrequited Love, cuz you may die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlkarianPrincess/pseuds/OlkarianPrincess
Summary: Pidge suspects that “Shiro” isn’t really himself and matters are complicated when an alien tells her that she and the one she loves are cursed to meet a terrible, tragic end. Lotor wants to provide her comfort, but his unrequited love is a burden on his heart. And Shiro - the real Shiro - wants nothing more than to be home in the castle once again.Soulmates, past lives, ancient legends, angst, angst, ANGST. And canon-compliant.





	1. The Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Strugglintoast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strugglintoast/gifts).



> So y’all know I don’t write a lot of angst. I have a certain brand I tap into but I’m nowhere near as cruel as some of y’all angsty bees. But I wanted to write Toast smth for VDay (I started working though so it got pushed back) and then she was *totally mean* to me and gave me an AU with a cliffhanger, so I plotted my revenge in the form of this incredibly angsty fic.
> 
> Toast, my friend, I like to think I’ve got a good sense of what stuff you like in fic. And I included your favs. It’s got angst. It’s got soulmates. It’s got past lives. It’s got some love triangle drama. It’s even got Kuron. I hope you like it but also that it makes your heart suffer because otherwise I couldn’t call this revenge. Seriously. Cliffhanger. How could you.

**Planet Muertanios. Post Liberation. Current Mission: Stabilization.**

“Shiro, I just talked to the Head of Council and,” Pidge glanced up from her datapad, her heart crumbling as she realized Shiro had brushed right by her. Her voice caught in her throat, her eyes following the Black Paladin to where Allura stood. The two engaged in conversation, meanwhile Pidge was left standing alone among the crowd of Muertanians.

She felt childish. She felt selfish. It shouldn’t have shattered her composure - but it did. Pidge took several deep breaths, praying that she could keep it together at least until she was out of the mass of refugees that they were in the middle of aiding. She spotted it up ahead: crates of relief supplies stacked in piles at least twice her height. Speeding up just enough to get her there faster without drawing attention to herself, she counted backwards from ten. Just as she reached the cover - her mecca, the only safety offered the planet could offer her in that moment, a hand reached out and touched her shoulder. She spun around, but it was too late, the tears were already beading at the corners of her eyes.

“Pidge we need- oh...” Lotor’s eyes were wide.

Pidge’s chest burned. He was the last person she needed to see at that moment.

“What do you want?” she spat out.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t his fault that Shiro had left her - had left the team - and come back a different man. He wasn’t the cause of Shiro’s sudden change in attitude. Or his loss of affection for Pidge. It wasn’t Lotor’s fault at all. But in that moment, everything seemed to have been caused by Galra’s new emperor. Which is why it surprised her when Lotor pulled her behind the crates and placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs ever so gently stroking her in a small circular pattern. The fire inside her dissipated and left only the biting cold.

“Are you okay, Pidge?”

Something about his actions was comforting, but even so, she refused to meet his eyes and elected to stare at a point on the ground instead.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

_Why would he?_ She realized it was a stupid thing to say.

“Pidge, look at me.”

She sighed and brought her eyes to meet his. They were odd, with their yellow color, but she’d gotten used to glaring at them.

“Now what’s wrong? We can’t have one of the galaxies few geniuses in emotional turmoil.”

“Geez, you sure know how to woo a lady,” she tried to play it off as a joke, but her cheeks grew warm. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

_I’m not going to tell you how selfish I’ve been. How much I miss Shiro - a man that only ever thought of me as a sister. But even then...he used to be my support. We relied on each other. He encouraged me and gave me the strength I needed to be here, and yet..._

She thought of Shiro’s soft smile, the one he used to reserve solely for her. It had been so long since she’d seen it. Hell, it had been so long since he had offered her a genuine word of encouragement. He was just so...so different. She couldn’t bear it. The thought made her heart ache, and brought tears to her eyes once more. Trying with all her might, she forced a smile on her face and pushed the terrible thoughts away. _Everything will be fine._

She didn’t believe it.

“It’s fine prince, er, emperor.”

“I told you to just call me Lotor,” Lotor sighed heavily. It was true, he’d said that on multiple occasions.

“Well, Lotor,” Pidge brushed his hands off her shoulders and stepped back, “all the Muertanians have been accounted for. I just talked to the High Council. Once we finish unloading the relief supplies from the castle we should be good here and your soldiers can take over the rest. Think you can handle that?”

Lotor smiled, but his eyes still held concern. Still, he didn’t pursue the matter any further. “They didn’t make my emperor for my good looks.”

Pidge rolled her eyes, smiling at the dumb joke, and took a deep breath. She walked off, more collected but no less hurt. _The mission is what matters now. Not Shiro. I just gotta let it go._

Pidge closed her eyes and cleared her mind. She returned to the one thing that would always bring her comfort: solving problems. Opening her eyes once more, she pulled up several reports on her datapad. Figuring out the optimal number of soldiers to place in the area was not just a matter of numbers, but of the psychology of the natives as well. And then there were the supplies, including the management of routes to and from the planet. Especially considering that they’d just freed the system from one of the Galra factions, but were still fighting for the surrounding systems. She paced as she worked, her mind completely absorbed by these questions. With the touch of her finger, data was sent to Lotor or Hunk or any individual she determined required it.

A figure danced in the corner of her vision. Sighing, she closed the files on her datapad and looked up. She wasn’t in the mood for interaction with other beings, but it was part of her job as a paladin of Voltron. The figure, as it turned out, was an old Muertanian woman who was swaying back and forth, palms placed firmly on her wooden cane. She stood on the edge of the crowd of Muertanians, seemingly in a world of her own. Concerned, Pidge approached the woman.

“Ma’am?” Pidge began.

“No need to calm me ma’am, dear paladin,” the woman practically sang.

“What would you like to be called then?”

“Morgahn-Na is fine.”

“Okay, Morgahn-Na, are you doing alright?”

“Oh I’m fine, dear. Perfectly fine.”

Pidge pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure where to go from there.

“Just listening to the song of the wind, don’t mind me,” Morgahn-Na chuckled.

“Oh, okay. Well let me know if I can help in any way,” Pidge forced a smile onto her face before turning.

As she walked away, Morgahn-Na called after her in a soothing voice, “Your eyes are full of sadness, dear paladin. Perhaps I’m the one the could do the helping?”

There they were again - the tears. Taking a deep breath, Pidge smiled weakly once more and turned her head to look back at Morgahn-Na.

“I’m fine, please don’t worry about me.”

“Oh dear, I’m an old woman, it’s my job to worry. And you helped my planet, why don’t you let me help you? Consider it a ‘Thank you.’”

Pidge turned completely, her shoulders square with the woman, “I’m not sure there’s a way you could help.”

“Oh? How about I give you a piece of wisdom...some knowledge just for you.”

That piqued Pidge’s interest.

Morgahn-Na turned toward the nearby buildings, “Come to my shop and I’ll show you what you need to know.”

Pidge felt herself drawn to this woman. There was a way she spoke that Pidge found reassuring. And so, without another word, she trailed after Morgahn-Na to the little hut that was closest to the edge of the town where Voltron was gathered. When she entered, the first thing she noticed was the fragrant smell of herbs wafting through the air. It smelled familiar - close to something they had back on earth - and made her heart ache for home. Accompanying the smell were jars of various alien herbs, likely native to that area of Muertanios. The shop was lined with these jars, many of which containing more than just herbs. Morghan-Na drew Pidge’s attention away from the shelves of containers and to the table in the center of the room. They sat facing each other, and the old woman drew a small black bag from within the folds of her robes. Pidge nearly gasped aloud as Morghan-Na drew an old, weathered deck of cards lined with intricate gold details from the small satchel and placed it on the table.

“Divination?”

Morghan-Na nodded.

_After all I’ve seen, I suppose it’s worth a try..._ Pidge felt weary, never believing in things like divination before she became part of Voltron. But if quintessence could power ten-thousand year-old spaceships that created wormholes, then divination may be a reality. And there was no telling what innate traits Muertanians themselves had. So Pidge sat still and waited as Morghan-Na shuffled the cards.

“Let’s see what we have here,” she placed five cards face-down on the table.

“Ah,” she flipped over the first card, “it’s as I thought.”

“What is?” Pidge was sitting on the edge of her seat, peering at the card. It depicted two figures - one that appeared to personify the sun and the other the moon.

“Here on Muertanios, we have many ancient legends that are the root of our tradition - our magic. One such legend is of the sun and the moon. It holds that they were once one soul, split apart in two in order to bring life to the planet. But their connection would never fade. They were drawn together, having once been one, and personify all the higher forms of love. And you,” she extended a finger towards Pidge, “have found your own sun.”

Pidge blinked a few times, “Y-you mean, like a soulmate?”

“That’s correct,” Morghan-Na smiled gently.

Pidge felt her face grow hot, her mind immediately bringing forth an image of Shiro, “I-I’m not sure that’s the case...I don’t even know if soulmates are real.”

Morghan-Na placed her hand on Pidge’s, “Whatever you call it, you, the Green Paladin, have found the one that you’re meant to be with. It’s an extremely rare occurrence. You should feel blessed.”

“Maybe it’s just not apparent yet...” Pidge stared at the card, “Who my soulmate is, I mean.”

“Maybe,” Pidge glanced up and noticed the amused smile on Morghan-Na’s face. “Why don’t we move on, paladin?”

Pidge nodded. The next card was visually split in two by a horizontal line. The top half depicted a glorious tree that bore many beautiful fruits, while the other showed the trees roots, which extended into darkness. Morghan-Na stared at the card for a while, the silence causing Pidge to fidget. After a few moments, Morghan-Na sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“Interesting...”

“What is it?” Pidge pressed.

“No card reveals the same truth twice, and for you this card points to an ancient truth. Tell me, dear, what do you know of souls?”

“On my planet there are many beliefs. Personally, I guess I believe souls are the concentration of quintessence unique to a person.”

Morghan-Na nodded, “That is one way of looking at it. As you put it, we each have a unique signature of quintessence surging through us. This is our soul. When we die, the quintessence becomes one with the universe again. But sometimes, after death our souls - our quintessence - stays in its unique pattern until merging with flesh once more.”

“Reincarnation,” Pidge stared at the card. Morghan-Na’s explanation made a lot of sense.

“Yes, dear. And your soul is very, very old. Over ten-thousand years old.”

Pidge found that hard to believe, and yet she was so very curious, “If that’s the case, have I gone through many lives?”

“That’s not a question this card can answer, why don’t we see what else your reading holds?”

Pidge refrained from bombarding Morghan-Na with the millions of questions that surged through her mind. _Assuming_ souls were real, did this mean that her soulmate was also ancient? Would there be a way to bring someone back to life if their essence could be gathered? Could souls be artificially created using quintessence? She bit her tongue and waited for her reading to continue.

Morghan-Na gave Pidge a reassuring smile, as if to say that she would answer her questions at the end. Pidge took a deep breath and nodded. Following their silent communication, Morghan-Na returned to her cards and revealed the third one. The moment she saw it, she froze. Before Pidge could ask what was wrong, she flipped over the last two cards suddenly. Pidge looked at the cards quickly, catching only a brief glimpse of what appeared to be a sword coated in blood, a crown, and a black rose. More concerned about Morghan-Na than the cards, she looked into the woman’s eyes, only to see that they were wide with fear.

Morghan-Na stood up and rushed to her door, “You must leave now, paladin.”

“What about the reading?”

“You need to leave!” Morghan-Na yelled. “I’m sorry but I can’t have you here. I can’t complete your reading.”

“Please calm down. Tell me what’s wrong,” Pidge reached out, not quite touching Morghan-Na, and spoke in the steadiest voice she could manage. “Start by taking some deep breaths.”

Morghan-Na complied and after three breaths spoke once more, “I’m sorry, but this is beyond knowledge. If I were to tell you what I saw...it’s just better I don’t. You really should leave. I am so sorry paladin. I am so, so sorry. I fear you staying will only make matters worse.”

“Please, Morghan-Na. You’ve already told me enough. It’s not like I will forget this.”

“You’re right,” the old woman rushed to the other end of her shop and began frantically searching her shelves, “I can make it better. I can give you something to forget. It will be better that way.”

“No!” Pidge’s flinched at the sound of her own loud voice. She hadn’t intended to sound so forceful. “I’m sorry, but no.”

Morghan-Na stopped and turned to face Pidge.

“I’ve faced many hardships, but no matter what, I never want to forget.”

The old woman sighed, “Very well then, paladin. I will give you what I can, but I am afraid I am not strong enough to explain it myself. Take what I can give you and leave, _please._ ”

Pidge nodded and Morghan-Na sighed once more. She bent over and traced her finger along the spines of a row of books which were pressed together on a lower shelf. Finding what she was looking for, she drew a heavy looking text bound in a dark red cover with chipped gold lettering.

“Take this. It holds the knowledge you seek.”

Pidge grasped the book firmly and pressed it to her chest. Her heart raced, but her mind told her that even if it was nothing, there had to be some reason for Morghan-Na’s deep fear. She thanked the Muertanian once more before turning to leave as quietly as she’d entered.

“The legend you seek,” Morghan-Na said in a low voice as Pidge crossed through the doorway, “is known as the Curse of Syrenia.”

  


**The Castle of Lions. Post Mission. Current Objective: Knowledge.**

Pidge walked through the castle, the book Morghan-Na had given her open to a page that had “The Curse of Syrenia” written in large, curling text. Surrounding the words was an intricate picture that, as Pidge inferred, illustrated the story. Several words were hidden in the image.

“Lovers. Curse. Split. Conflict. Demise,” she read aloud.

Pidge stared at the image longer than she needed to. She knew the true information to be held on the following pages, and yet her stomach twisted in such a way as to encourage the procrastination of analyzing the text. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to flip to the beginning of the story, but fate had other plans. As it so happened, she approached an intersection in the halls just as she made her decision to continue her pursuit of knowledge, and so she managed to run headfirst into someone who was heading along the intersecting hallway.

The book fell to the ground. Scrambling to pick it up, Pidge noticed too late that it was Shiro with whom she’d had the collision.

“Oh, Shiro, I’m sorry about that,” she extended her hand towards him, but he simply huffed and focused on the direction he was headed.

“Watch where you’re going. A paladin of Voltron should be more aware of their surroundings,” he lectured as he stood up and left.

“I’m...sorry...,” she said it so softly, she was certain Shiro didn’t hear it, but it didn’t matter.

Her heart raced and once more, she felt as though she couldn’t contain her tears. Clutching the book to her chest she ran as fast as her weary legs would take her and ducked into the first open room she found. It was one of the many unused rooms of the castle. This particular one was decorated in dark shades of purple and red with a large couch-like object as its main furniture. Entering the room, she threw the book onto the couch and slumped onto the ground at its foot, curling her head into her knees and sobbing.

_It’s all just too much._

“A paladin of Voltron,” the words echoed in her head.

_I was just in the right place at the right time._

_I’m not a paladin or warrior or hero of anything._

_I’m just-_

“Pidge?” a voice called out from the doorway.

Immediately, she silenced her sobs, holding them in as best she could.

“Yes,” she hated how weak her voice sounded.

“Are you alright?” it was Lotor, she realized.

“I’m fine, just tired, that’s all.”

She heard him sigh.

“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”

“It’s nothing.”

Silence followed her statement. And then the soft _pit pat_ of footsteps. She almost jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Pidge...” he slid onto the ground beside her, “I know we have had our...differences...”

“That’s putting it lightly,” she laughed softly.

“Ha, yeah. At this point, you’re the only paladin that still doesn’t trust me. And I’m not here to say you should. But...ugh sorry I’m terrible at this. I can rule an empire but I can’t talk to one girl.”

His last statement drew another laugh from Pidge.

“Basically, I really admire you Pidge. And I don’t think you deserve to be in pain. So if you need a friend, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks,” Pidge responded. She paused, contemplating what to say next. “Have you ever heard of the Curse of Syrenia?”

“It sounds familiar.”

Pidge finally looked at him, noticing how thoughtful he appeared as he gazed forward, mind searching for the connection.

“I got this book back on Muertanios,” Pidge reached onto the couch and handed Lotor the book.

He ran his fingers over the cover. “A book of legends? Ancient ones too...perhaps this story you speak of is the same as the Tragedy of Sylesias. The name may have changed in translation.”

“Tell me about it,” Pidge took the book back.

“Okay, but why do you want to know?”

“The woman that gave me this book, she...” Pidge hesitated, “she seemed to think I was somehow connected to the legend. She did a divination for me and kinda freaked out.”

She felt Lotor’s gaze on her, “Is that why you’re upset? It’s just an old Altean legend...a fairytale. That’s all.”

“The white lion was supposed to be an Altean fairytale too,” she turned slightly to meet his gaze.

“Fair point. But I doubt this relates to you. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let something like this upset you.”

“It’s not that,” Pidge sighed deeply, “it’s something else.”

“You don’t have to tell me, don’t worry.”

“I don’t know if I can keep it in any longer. But...maybe...” she tapped her fingers on the cover of the book, “You know how you like Allura?”

“I what?” he sounded genuinely surprised.

Pidge turned to face him completely, a toothy grin on her face, “Seriously? Everyone knows dude. You’re so obvious. We all know you’ve got a crush on her.”

“I think you’ve got that all wrong, Pidge. Allura is great, she really is. But I think what you see as romantic interest is merely admiration. She’s the last Altean alchemist. It’s truly impressive.”

“Uh-huh. Well in that case what I feel is ‘admiration’ too. And I know it’s trivial. We’re fighting a space war...and yet my admiration is met with such a cold wall that I feel like I’m slowly suffocating.”

“You like someone?” Lotor raised a brow.

“That’s all you got from that. I open my heart to you and you deduce that I like someone? No shit Sherlock.”

“I don’t...”

Pidge began to laugh. It felt good - really good, actually. It was a silly thing to laugh about, but she found it amusing. And even as she felt Lotor’s perplexed eyes on her, she didn’t feel embarrassed at her ridiculous display.

“Jeez, how could the Galra pick such an uninformed emperor,” Pidge shook her head.

“I can’t be expected to know the history of every culture...”

“I’m messing with you,” she elbowed him in the ribs.

Lotor sighed, a smile on his face. “I see. The Green Paladin is quite a trickster. Maybe that’s why she launched my robobeast coffin into space...”

“She did no such thing. You can’t prove that.”

It was Lotor’s turn to laugh.

“Alright Mr. Emperor, get to the story before you have to go do imperial duties, which you’re probably neglecting so you can come spend time here with Allluuuuura.”

She met Lotor’s eyes so she could see his reaction, but he just stared at her with a soft smile on his face.

“Sorry, I’m just teasing. I didn’t mean to make it awkward.”

“Oh, uhm,” he turned and looked forward at the end of the room, “you didn’t. Why don’t I tell you about that story? Then perhaps we can take a look at this book of legends together and compare.”

“Sounds good. Thank you. I know it’s probably nothing. But thank you anyway.”

“Not a problem,” the smile he gave her was truly genuine.

  


**Neither of them noticed Shiro standing at the edge of the doorway.**

Shiro’s intent had been to apologize to Pidge, but by the time he found her it was too late. She was with Lotor and the sight caused Shiro to freeze in place. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. He couldn’t stop thinking about how close they were - sitting side by side and touching. It caused his chest to burn as a deep fire built inside of him. It was too much. He hated how nice Lotor was to Pidge. He hated how she just accepted it. He _hated_ that awful smile that Lotor gave her.

He hated it.

 


	2. The Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takashi Shirogane will not die before he can finally see her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops this took a long time to post. But here it is. No one's dead yet.
> 
> As usual, this has not been proofread in any way whatsoever *slips on sunglasses as if that fact makes me a badass*
> 
> [Cover Image for this chapter](https://78.media.tumblr.com/2e6b10a87322b5aaf6a55d7d74ac4fa8/tumblr_inline_pa8xjmI9x01sn48n7_540.png)

_They say death ends in darkness, but what of fire’s cruel blazing light?_

~ * ~

Takashi Shirogane, pilot of the Kerberos mission, Champion of the Galra Gladiator Arena, and former pilot of the Black Lion of Voltron stumbled forward through the sand - each step a small triumph against death’s arid embrace. Occasionally, the sand shifted beneath his feet, and he struggled to remain upright. This desert land was not to be his grave, or so he’d resolved miles ago when he’d left the perilous journey through the mountains behind. The “sun,” an oddly singular referral to the binary stars which beat down on his back, were setting in the sky behind him. Ironically, he knew the dehydration and heat weren’t his greatest enemies in his fight to stay alive - the freezing night was. If he didn’t make it to the town in time, death would surely claim him.

_I’m almost there._

He repeated the words to himself, even if he didn’t believe them. Alone in the Muertanian desert with not a single living being to keep him company, he struggled to find the hope that had kept him through the war thus far. But it was not impossible. Memories of his friends - his family - gave him the strength to push forward. It had been a long time since he’d seen them in person, but he thought about them every waking moment. They were even in his dreams. Dreams so real he once woke up in a cold sweat after hearing Lance call out to him. And as vivid as these memories were, his ambition to one day get home was far greater in magnitude.

There was one face in particular that stood out to him - the face of a sweet girl he’d once met at the Garrison on earth. She’d been shy and clever then, and although she gained her confidence, she was just as clever as when they’d been introduced. As he walked through the desert, his feet burned in searing pain and begged his body to stop, but he stayed focused on her.

“Pain is a figment of our imagination, meant to keep us alive,” she’d once told him while working on his arm. “That’s why it’s important to make sure these sensors are hooked up.”

_But it’s still a construct. It’s temporary. Death is permanent._

Death was never an option to Shiro. Especially not when he had to see Katie again. Just the thought that she’d been on the same planet only days prior kept him going. He was sure he’d see his family again. Despite the energy that seemed to seep from his pores, despite the environment that conspired to kill him, and despite the assassin that had been sent in his place, Shiro knew he’d survive. He only had to complete his plan. Everything was already in motion. Sure, there had been setbacks, such as the air travel of Muertanios being temporarily restricted. But such matters were a part of life, at least that’s what he told himself. True or not, it kept him going.

_I can make it to the top of the dune._

He hadn’t survived being tortured by the Galra coincidentally. Each small goal led him further to the completion of this mission. Every piece of data he gathered furthered his goal. And all of it led in the same direction: home. With that in mind, Shiro pushed his body, which was already far beyond its physical limit, to the top of the dune. The soft yellow sand caved under his boot and he felt the pull of gravity on his body. Reaching out, he did all he could to hold on, but the tiny particles betrayed him, slipping through his fingers and allowing him to tumble down the hill.

Sand caked his clothes and his face. He darned not wipe it off, however. He’d made that mistake before and faced the coarse consequences. Spitting the disgusting sand out of his mouth, he pictured his goal in his mind once more and took three deep breaths.

_One._

He stood up.

_Two._

He took a step.

_Three._

He made his way up the side of the dune, carefully this time. At that moment, nothing mattered more to him than seeing the Castle of Lions again. He forced his focus on imaginary scenarios of what he’d do when he got back. Shiro pictured hugging Allura and Coran, training with Keith, getting cooking lessons from Hunk, and playing video games with Lance. He also thought about wandering the halls at night, unable to sleep, until he realized his body had somehow made its way to the Green Lion’s hanger. As his feet carried him up the dune, he saw into Katie’s lab. The soft glow of her machines lit up her face as she concentrated, yawning but never moving her focus away from her work. He thought about what it would be like to tell her that he loved her. To take her hand and bring her into a gentle hug and never let go. His brain tried to interject and remind him that she’d never feel the same way, but he hushed it. It was his fantasy. It was his motivation to get to the top of the hill.

And he made it. Out of breath, he stared at the horizon and squinted. Hope swelled in his heart and a new life was brought to his body. Still a small dot in the distance, but nevertheless there, was the town he’d been searching for. It was so close he could practically feel it. Breaking out into a run, he raced down the dune, only occasionally stumbling, but quickly regaining his balance as he went. The fatigue in his muscles did not leave, but the adrenaline of finding his only salvation in the desert revitalized his being.

Shiro pushed himself beyond his limit. The desert threatened to choke him, his throat removed of all moisture. But he knew he had to get there. Slowly losing momentum, his legs struggled to move on. But his mind never gave up.

_Closer. I’m getting closer._

The suns behind him threatened to disappear before he made it. It was a race against time. One slipped behind the mountain range and the hue of the sky changed. As the other slowly dipped into the earth, he kept his focus on the town. Two steps at a time he made his way forward. Each step was another victory, each minute a triumph. And just as he was about to reach the little building on the edge of the village, his legs gave out. He fell into the rough, cracked ground that the sand had given way to. Swearing, he pushed himself up and counted his breaths as he moved forward. His body swayed as he walked, but his mind never wavered. Just as he reached the building, he collapsed once more, and his vision went black.

When he awoke, Shiro was found his nose overpowered by thick scents that reminded him of home. Sitting up from the hard floor that he laid on, the soft blanket that had been carefully placed over him slipped down in a pile on his legs. The place was curious, if he had a single word with which to describe it. Shelves lined the walls and on these shelves were jars containing all sorts of materials. Odd little metal chains hung from the ceiling, some holding small pots and others holding nothing at all. At the opposite corner of what had to be a shop of sorts, a Muertanian woman stood hunched over a table, messing with something that was obscured from his vision by her body.

“Thank you,” those were the first words that slipped from his mouth, and as simple as they were, his dry throat barely made them audible.

“Oh drink dear,” the elderly woman rushed over, a bowl of water in her hand. “Drink, drink. You humans need water far more than we do.”

Shiro did not want to be rude, but his thirst won over any polite sentiments his mind had. Taking the bowl in his hands, he did not stop drinking until it was empty.

“Thank you,” he said again, this time in a stronger voice. “You’ve met humans before, then?”

“Oh yes, the paladins. Yes...” her voice trailed off and she looked away, her mind lost in some other world.

Shiro wasn’t sure what to say, so he lowered his eyes to plush brown blanket that covered his knees and gently rubbed his fingers across the fabric.

“You can find rest at the inn, young man. I’ll give you a few things and then you should go,” the woman spoke suddenly and began rushing about the room, filling a brown sack with various items.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Shiro leapt to his feet, picking up the pillow and blanket he’d used and folding them before setting them on the table.

“It’s quite alright, I just feel it’s best for you to be on your way,” she wouldn’t look him in the eyes, she merely extended the bag towards him and he gratefully accepted.

“I’m really sorry to bug you, ma’am,” Shiro said again, quickly on his way to the door.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, young paladin.”

“Young...paladin?” Shiro stopped and turned slowly to face her.

_It’s not like I’ve never been recognized. But maybe she is my next lead...Voltron was just here..._

“I’m sorry, have we met before ma’am?” Shiro questioned.

_I swear if that son-of-a-bitch did something to make this woman weary. I’d have more proof. But._

_Focus._

_Patience yields focus._

“No,” she replied firmly. “We have not. I just recognized you from the ads.”

“But Voltron was just here, surely you ran into the paladins.”

“I did not meet you,” she looked him straight in the eye this time.

Shiro almost dropped his bag. Unsure what to think, or if he was even interpreting her correctly, he reached for the chair nearest to him and slipped into it. His body was still weak from the journey, and his mind was full of questions.

“I shouldn’t be saying anything,” she whispered, refusing to look at him once more, “but I feel so bad about scaring that young woman...”

_Katie?_

“What woman?”

The Muertanian paused for a time longer than what Shiro was comfortable with, but he knew enough about diplomacy to not push his luck. She clearly knew something. And if he was right, she knew that the man with Katie and the paladins was not him. The real issue was how much she knew, and what was it about the situation that scared her so much. These were things he had to find out before leaving.

Shiro took a deep breath first. “I’m sorry to put you in this position, but there’s so much at stake her. It’s not just for me, but for the universe. I know that sounds dramatic but,”

She put up a finger, “It’s not dramatic. I’m just scared. An old woman like me who’s seen it all...and I’m scared.” She laughed softly and eased herself into the chair across from Shiro. “I’m Morghan-Na.”

“Takashi. Takashi Shirogane,” Shiro offered.

“Pilot of the Black Lion, Champion of the Galra, and Sun of the Legends.”

Shiro pursed his lips. The first two titles were common knowledge, but the third one was new. He began to ask, but Morghan-Na held up her finger once more.

“My child, listen to my story. I have seen through the veil of time and souls, and I know a great disaster will befall you. I only wish I could help more, but I do not possess your courage. This is terrifying business, you see. The thing of legends. So listen, and you may learn something. And then you will be on your way.”

Shiro nodded his head, and Morghan-Na sighed before beginning her tale.

“Long ago, before the war, we Muertanians inhabited Muertanios Prime - the ancestral home of our people prior to its destruction. We looked to our single sun and our glorious moon for hope and guidance. It was through this tradition that a belief was born...”

Shiro had respected Morghan-Na’s wishes and left silently after hearing her out. She revealed little in the way of the information that he had been seeking on this planet, but warned him of a history that was bound to repeat. What she had to offer was far worse than what he’d searched for in the first place. And it disrupted his mission. It crumbled his chances of fulfilling his dream of returning home the right way - a way without a mess. All he’d wanted was to finish acquiring his solid proof and shed the light of the universe on it. To save everyone and to disrupt _her_ wicked plan. But this goal was thrown out the window the moment Morghan-Na’s story began. Not because he couldn’t still do as he wished, but because his heart warned him of more important matters to deal with.

“The sun must not let the moon die. You must not let her go.”

Morghan-Na’s last words to him haunted his memory. Heart beating in his chest, he looked out into the desert and no longer denied what he knew to be true. The cold wind clawed at his face with its ice talons, but it did not phase him. He had to save the one he loved.

He had to save Katelyn Holt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done setting up the main part of the story! Here comes the angst train! Choo choo!


	3. The Echo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the Tragedy of Sylesias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gods I'm so excited, like y'all don't even know. The other two chapters were basically prologue. Just "I gotta explain how everyone got here" type business. This chapter was end game all along. I'm so freakin pumped. This is the kinda stuff I love writing.
> 
> And boy oh boy this is the first time I've ever killed anyone in a fic. Like, I've never had to use the MCD tag. I mean I've killed off characters but never major ones. Fifty or so fics and I've never used this tag :O I'm not an angst bean. But Toast is so she deserves this. 
> 
> (Also Toast plz don't hate me I hope you like it)

**The Tragedy of Sylesias is nothing more than a legend, and yet all legends contain a seed of truth. As I remember it, this fairytale has its basis in the life of Princess Sylesias. An Atlean, born just before the planet was united under a single ruler, she was the next heir to the throne that would one day become Alfor’s.**

Lotor’s story had left a gaping hole in Pidge’s heart. Telling herself it was just an old legend, she tried to steady her breathing. She had kept her composure up until the point where she and Lotor had parted ways, but the cracks in her facade were quickly growing. Try as she might, she couldn’t help but focus on the main difference they’d found between the Altean and Muertanian version of the story. Namely, the Muertanians believed that the curse was permanently entwined with the souls of those that suffered the tragedy.

A tear slipped from Pidge’s eye and hit the book that she held cradled in her arms. Picking up her pace, her feet led her away from the inhabited areas of the castle and into dark, hardly-used corridors. What was initially a brisk walk quickly evolved into a full out run as the tears began pouring down her cheeks. The story, true or not, had touched some hidden part of her heart and caused her just an overwhelming sorrow. It resonated with all the pain she’d been holding in for so long, and she was simply no longer capable of containing it all.

Not think about where she was going, merely running to get away from it all, Pidge tore through the castle. At that time of night it was rare to run into another awake soul, but she didn’t want to be in contact with anyone. Not even her brother, should he happen upon her in her lab. And so her feet carried her to safety, away from all the possible prying eyes that could overanalyze her feelings and tell her that it’s all okay.

_ It’s not all okay. _

Pidge’s mind raced, grasping for answers to the storm of complex emotions that brewed within her. There was no where for her to go. No place where she could hide from the thing she feared. Even being alone wouldn’t keep it all at bay. No, being alone would make her feelings even more intense. And yet, she felt powerless to do anything about it. She felt completely powerless against her own feelings.

Realizing this, she slowed her pace to a steady walk. It was then that she recognized her surroundings and finally realized where she was headed. Rounding the corners, she found what her feet had been looking for. Before her, the edge of the floor was rounded into a semicircle. In place of walls were magnificent glass doors that led onto the balcony beyond. Through the glass, she was able to see the night sky in all its glory, and it took her breath away.

**It’s said that the princess was not only uniquely beautiful, with her unusually green Altean marks and eyes that sparkled as though a storm of golden fire brewed within them, but also tremendously clever. Her people adored her and looked to her to be the hope of their country. She would’ve been a remarkable ruler. Some believe that, if she’d taken the throne next instead of her cousin King Alur, she could’ve brought peace to the universe, but fate had other plans.**

The wind brushed playfully at Pidge’s short hair, curling the ends this way and that as she stared off into an unfamiliar landscape. The planet they were on was, like it’s name, unremarkable. Thick forests extended from every side of the castle and, if it weren’t for the odd bluish hue of their leaves, it would have seemed like home. Instead, Pidge felt as if she were lost, leaning over the edge of an old boat as the cold sea swayed this way and that below her. But her wooden boat was a cold, metal castle and the waves of the sea were leaves moved gently by the wind. Sighing, she wondered if she was losing her mind.

Before she’d lost her brother and father, everything had been good. She had been loved and perhaps there were hardships, but they were nothing she couldn’t face. And then her family as gone, lost to the universe, and the world was cold and lonely. But she’d found a new family and it was full of life and love. Despite all that, she couldn’t help but feel that her family was slipping away again, and the man she loved felt nothing for her.

Pidge pressed her forehead against the metal railing of the balcony and let the coolness soothe the sharp pain in her head. She wasn’t sure she’d admitted to herself before that she’d loved him, at least not so directly. It was an undeniable fact, however, and one that resulted in a heavy burden for her to bear. At least it had seemed manageable before, but with no attention at all from the man she loved, she was in despair.

_ It’s not as bad as the tragedy, _ she thought to herself, although she knew that a situation does not have to be a tragedy for it to cause pain and suffering.

**You see, the princess’s hand in marriage was well-coveted. Not only was her home country prosperous, but she had the traits of a fine queen and partner. Her parents thought her capable of making her own choice until three of Altea’s nations went to war. It was at that time that she fell in love with a member of the king’s guard. Previously assigned to her brother, the knight Khyren was tasked with protecting the princess.**

Pidge kept her forehead pressed to the railing for a lengthy amount of time. Memories flooded her mind. She recalled her first night on the oh-so-familiar balcony. It had been a long one. Hours of negotiations became days, and she was itching to get back into action and actually do something. Diplomacy had it’s place, but it did not win wars alone. Putting in long nights, she worked on upgrading some of the technology in her lion. But with fatigue came frustration, and so she ended up wandering the halls one lonely night. By accident, she found herself colliding face first with another living being.

Shiro’s smile had been so heartbreaking that night. His pain seeped through the brave face he put on. Without a word, she’d wrapped her arms around him and they held each other for a while, taking comfort in the warmth of another human, before wordlessly agreeing to wander the halls together. As if by magic, the balcony seemed to appear before them and they found refuge in its beauty. From that night forward, they often came there together when they had trouble sleeping. 

Not wishing to think more about it, Pidge pushed the visions of her past far away from her mind. Eyes closed, she took in the sounds that the night had to offer. In the distance, a wild animal cried out at the moons. Leaves rustled, letting out their soft whispers as they brushed against each other in the canopy below. Beside her, something made a faint clicking noise against the railing’s metal. Immediately, Pidge drew her bayard and took a defensive stance, only to send the tiny avian creature that landed beside her to flutter off in fear. She returned her bayard to her side and let out a long breath of air.

“A paladin of Voltron should be aware of their surroundings, Pidge,” she echoed Shiro’s words, sending a cold chill through her chest. “But a paladin of Voltron is still a living person. And people need rest.”

The words she spoke were things Shiro had said to her, but they seemed as if they came from two completely different people. The last time he’d spoken to her so kindly was when he said those words. Prior to executing their attack against Zarkon’s central command, the pair had ended up huddled together before the glass doors, staring out at the stars that surrounded the ship. Shiro had insisted that she sleep, but she didn’t want to be alone. They compromised, only separating so that she could fetch some blankets from a nearby storage closet she’d recently discovered. That night, sleeping beside him under the watchful gaze of the universe, was the last time she’d felt at peace. It was also the last time she’d felt as though Shiro cared.

Suddenly, a thought pushed forward from the back of her mind, and Pidge’s eyes widened. Her gut twisted in a horrific manner and, without missing a beat, she ran as silently as she could back to the green lion’s hangar.

**Unbeknownst to her, the king and queen - her mother and father - had signed a treaty with a rival nation which included the provision that the kingdoms be united through the marriage of Princess Sylesias to their own prince. When the princess found out, she was devastated. Sure, Prince Demasias was handsome, charming, and a capable leader, but he was not her Khyren.**

Lotor furrowed his brow as he took his time walking through the halls of the Castle of Lions. With the help of something Hunk called “socks,” his footsteps were practically silent, so as to not wake anyone. Wishing Pidge hadn’t left him so suddenly, he found himself at the entrance to the green lion’s hangar, which doubled as her lab. It had been quite some time since their discussion, so there was no doubt in her mind that she’d be asleep. Biting his lip, he regretted not going after her, even though he knew she didn’t want him to follow. He’d made such good progress with her, he even swore he felt his heart skip a beat! And yet telling her the silly story only caused her more anguish, which she attempted to hide from him.

_ If only I could hold her and bring her comfort.  _

He longed to hold her warm figure in his arms. If only she understood how he felt. At least she seemed to cease hating him, if even for a brief moment. Although she was under some delusion that he was head-over-heels in love with another woman. Shaking his head at the ridiculous motion, he moved closer to the door and discovered it to be open. Peering around the corner, Lotor was able to see a small figure moving in the dimly lit space. An eerie teal light emanated from the equipment and washed over Pidge’s face, causing her features to look sunken and her skin devoid of life. But she moved. This odd, ghostly vision of Pidge moved frantically about, clearly on a mission of sorts. He was taken aback by the scene as a sudden electrical shock ran through his body and caused his stomach to sink. His hairs standing on their end, he spun around and headed for his room. Lotor’s mind could not pinpoint what was wrong and why the sight of Pidge like that, despite being a trick of the light on his eyes, caused such a familiar sense of despair.

**Princess Sylesias was as determined as she was intelligent and beautiful. She requested a secret meeting with Demasias and explained her true feelings. Despite being deeply in love with her, he agreed to call the marriage off without breaking the treaty. This is when everything went wrong.**

The  _ clang _ of Pidge’s fists against the table echoed all around her makeshift lab.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” she swept a tool off the table and it clattered to the ground. “It has to be here!”

Realizing her mistake, she clamped both hands against her mouth and slipped down to the ground, tears forming in her eyes once more. She was so close. She knew she was so close. But her evidence was just out of reach, like the light at the end of a tunnel that goes on forever. Hands grabbing at her hair, she began rocking in place, forcing herself to experience and release all the emotions that swelled up inside of her. She had to deal with it. She had to find a way to calm down. 

_ It’s the only way to get him back. _

That was it. That was what she needed. Focusing on the image of Shiro -  _ her Shiro _ \- she picked herself up from the ground and flipped her computer open once more. The answer to her questions existed, she just wasn’t sure where. Glancing briefly at the shoddily constructed device laying on the table beside her hand, she took a deep breath. If she had to get answers the hard way, she would, but only as a last resort. Refocusing on her work, she carefully studied the somewhat unethically accessed footage from the Castle of Lions.

_ It’s my home too. That makes it okay. _

Snickering at the reaction she imagined her Shiro would have to that sort of excuse, she continued her diligent search. Hours had to have passed since the time she finished her little device and when she broke down. And if the castle had no answers for her, the data she’d mined from the Galra had to. There were so many places to look and only one Pidge, but she decided not to let that fact get the best of her again.

As she studied file after file of mundane activity, a glint of light caught her eye. In one of the video feeds on her screen, she saw Shiro in a place he shouldn’t have been alone: her lab. Gasping, she rewound the footage and studied it, taking in every last detail. She was so focused on her discovery that she didn’t process the approaching sound of a rubber sole on the castle’s metallic floor. By the time she lifted her gaze from her computer, it was too late.

“Shiro.”

The shadows of his face were exaggerated in the darkness, giving him the appearance of a fierce predator about to pounce on its prey. In the dim light, she almost swore his eyes glowed yellow.

“Pidge.”

His hardened expression caused her to take a few steps back.

“What are you doing Pidge?”

Before she could stop him, he reached out and turned her monitor around. He practically growled at the sight of the footage.

“Shiro it’s not what you think.” Pidge took another step back as he took a step forward.

“I think it is. And I think you and I need to have a discussion.”

His Galra hand reached out and wrapped around her arm, pressing down into her flesh.

“Shiro, stop!”

**The mother of Prince Demasias and all-powerful monarch of their country, Queen Elizias, was furious at her son’s news. But her outrage did not feed into immediate war. No, she was a wicked woman of great deceit and cruelty. After her death, horrible stories arose about her dark deeds. To many Alteans at the time of Allura’s birth, she was nothing more than a tactic parents used to scare their children. They called her the Dark Queen. The Witch of Altea. The Cursed Lady. Whatever name you give her, it is clear that she was believed to be immensely powerful and terrifyingly corrupted by quintessence.**

It was odd, and yet in such a short amount of time the castle had started to feel like home to him. Of course, Lotor never really had a home prior to being given a small room in the Altean ship. Even as emperor of the Galra, his central command felt like an empty husk, void of the darkness that once inhabited it, but no less cold and unwelcoming. The only times he felt at peace were on his periodic stays with the crew of Voltron.

Brushing his hand over a jagged orange crystal that stood displayed on his shelf, he began to hum a song from before the Galra became warmongers. Crouching down, he sorted through the books he kept on his shelf. The one he desired had brown binding - weathered from years of handling. It was old, very old, and held at least a few secrets that were thought to be lost to the universe. Carefully turning the pages, he read the Altean headings aloud to himself. He stopped and he stared when he reached one particular illustration that he’d never paid mind to before. The words beneath it described it as a copy of a painting that some famous artist did in tribute to Altean history. However, it wasn’t the words that shook him to his core. It was what the painting depicted. Nearly dropping the book, Lotor stumbled to his feet and raced out of his room. All the warmth was drawn from his body and a sudden piercing cold replaced it. Stopping suddenly, he slid along the floor and had to reach out and grab the doorway to change his trajectory. It was there, at the doorway to the Green Lion’s hangar, that he was left with a deep sense of dread. The Green Lion was there, but Pidge was gone.

Before he could do anything about it, a sudden unexpected turn of events took place. Lotor turned around, running face first into the last person he expected to be there.

**The magic - or alchemy, as it was in actuality - that Queen Elizias supposedly used is forbidden. All books related to it were burned. But I found one that survived. It speaks of a powerful spell that splits the soul in two. Disguised as a palace servant, the queen was able to get close to Khyren and inflict the curse. From that moment on, the once gentle and kind man was never the same.**

Try as she might, the sharp, throbbing pain emanating from the side of her head would not go away. She tried to ignore it and allow the stillness to engulf her, but it was persistent. Finally, she sighed and opened her eyes. Sitting up, her mind finally cleared, and Pidge realized that she was not in her room on the castle. No, the room - a hall, really - was constructed of chipping stone. The elegant carvings that decorated the many columns that stood against the walls had their fine details obscured by the hand of time. Now soft and deteriorating, the ruins, as they truly were, were filled with the feeling of death. To her back, a window revealed a planet she’d never seen. The rugged landscape was covered in lifeless gray cliffs, and dark storm clouds shrouded the lands.

“Where am I?” she spoke while keeping her gaze on the land beyond the window.

A response came in the form of a sigh.

“Pidge, please don’t be mad. We need to talk.”

“Excuse me?” Pidge snapped her head around to face “Shiro,” who had stepped out from the shadows. “You knock me unconscious and drag me to goddess knows where and you expect us to just  _ talk _ ?” Her words were full of venom.

“Please, I,” he groaned, his hand covering his eye as he twisted his face in pain. “Please, Pidge. I..I need your help.”

“That’s why you brought me here? We could’ve talked on the castle.”

“No, you don’t understand. You were so close. And, and there’s something about this place. I had to show you.”

“Show me what?”

He carefully lowered his hand from his face and, still wincing, took a few steps to the nearest column. Picking up the disk that was mounted against it, he twisted it’s top half in his hand and it began to glow. He turned to Pidge and nudged his chin in the direction he wanted them to go. Her eyes trained on him, brows still pressed together, she got up carefully and followed. They walked until they reached the next window and stopped near the wall opposite of it. Holding the light up, he revealed a painting on the wall. Despite the fact that the paint was dirty and cracking, the main features of the work were still clearly visible.

“That’s...” Pidge didn’t finish her sentence, her mind filling with questions.

The subject of the ancient painting before them was a couple in lush green words. Framed by intricate gold patterns, it reminded Pidge of an image from a storybook. The woman in the image bore a long green cloak, gold eyes, and unusually green Altean markings. A handsome knight gazed lovingly down on her, his own ears pointed and face marked with purple lines. Pidge was able to easily recognize them as Sylesias and Khyren, but what shocked her wasn’t the reference to the Altean legend. What shocked her was that, despite the waist-length hair that fell over the woman’s shoulders and the lack of scar on the man, the pair looked just like her and Shiro.

“Where are we?” she finally managed to say something.

“An old Altean temple on a lost moon.”

“And this is...”

“You. And me.”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s not us. But even if it were, that,” she pointed at the man in the painting, “is Shiro.” Turning to face the man with her, she looked him dead in the eye, “and you are not Shiro.”

He sighed, “I know you suspected that, but that’s not possible. I know I’ve been acting off, and I’ve been feeling off, and I’m sorry! You have to believe that I’m sorry!”

“And you have to face the truth. A truth you know in your heart.”

“No,” he bit back firmly. “No you don’t understand,” he extended his hand out to her.

She took a step back, “What’s my name then.”

“You’re Pidge. Why are you asking that?”

“No, I want you to say my name. Call me what you always call me when we’re alone. Say. My. Name.”

“I-,” he dropped his hand and looked away, “It’s Pidge.”

Once again, her eyes filled with tears, “My name is Katelyn Holt. And yours is not Takashi Shirogane. You are not Shiro.”

**Khyren’s eyes filled with darkness, turning them pitch black - but only for a moment. And then they glowed a wicked yellow. He fell to his knees and let out a scream for his soul was being torn apart inside him. Weak from the curse, the corrupted half took over and sought out Sylesias. His eyes returned to their normal color, allowing him to get close to her without anyone noticing that something was off. Alone in the palace garden, he drew his blade.**

“No, no, no!” he slammed his Galra arm into the stone, creating huge cracks in the wall. “Project Kuron....Project,” he muttered to himself, sinking to his knees.

Outside, Pidge heard the wind begin to pick up.

“Kuron?” she took a step forward.

“That’s what they said when they...I don’t know. They did something to me, Pidge!” he turned to face her, tears streaming down his face.

She lowered her hand to his shoulder, pausing for a second before actually making contact. “I’m not sure that they did something  _ to _ you so much as they...made you.”

“No...”

“That’s why you were different. Shiro and I...we were close.”

All around them she could hear the sounds of the approaching storm. The wind blew with ferocity, twisting around the uneven rocks and filling the air with the unsettling cries of a choir of lost souls. It was as though the voices of those that had died tragically in the mountains were trapped in the wind itself, cursed to forever carry on in hopes of rest. But she knew it was only the vibration of air on rocks. A sound explained by science. And it was in that moment that she felt the harmony between the mystical and the understandable, and so she took a deep breath.

“Don’t you hear it?” she reached out and placed her palm gently on his cheek, doing her best to conceal the shaking of her body. 

  
  
  


Careful not to be distracted the the surprising warmth and comfort of his flesh, she continued. “Do you hear the wind around us? It sounds like waves crashing in the ocean back on earth. If you close your eyes, you can almost see it. Feel as if you’re there.”

He did as he was told, closing his eyes and taking in the sounds of the storm.

“I...can’t,” he sighed, a single tear trickled down his face.

“It’s okay,” she lowered herself onto the floor next to him and placed her other hand on his thigh. “It’s okay.”

“I love you,” he whispered.

Her heart began to beat heavily in her chest as her cheeks grew warm.

“We could be together. Even if I don’t remember before...I love you. I could give you everything he couldn’t,” Kuron stared at her, eyes full of a sad hope.

Pidge froze, completely unsure how to respond. Before she could sort out her feelings and muster up some sort of reply, Kuron jerked back and let out a cry of pain. His hands flew to his head again and he fell back onto the floor. Writhing in pain, Pidge reached out to help him, but he only twisted his body away from her touch.

“Kuron,” Pidge called out.

He stopped moving, his breathing growing heavy. Finally, he pushed himself to his feet.

“It’s Shiro.”

“I’m sorry. Shiro, are you okay,” the name felt odd to say, but she did her best to keep the situation from escalating. Her best, however, was not enough.

“I was a fool to think I could talk to you. And you were a fool to think you could get through to me,” a wicked smile spread across his lips, “but now I have the perfect opportunity to take care of things.”

All the vulnerability he’d expressed to her was gone. Kuron was not only cold once more, but he sounded cruel on top of that.

“Stop! I’m sure this is the work of that witch. Please, Shiro, listen to me,” Pidge knew it wasn’t  _ her _ Shiro that she reasoned with, but she couldn’t exhaust the potential of resolving things peacefully.

Kuron felt differently. Galra arm glowing, he lunged at her.

The storm had finally come. Heavy droplets fell from the sky and crashed onto the ground, like the footfall of soldiers marching through the twisted rocks on a journey to vanquish faceless enemies. They had to be faceless, in her imagination. For the image the true enemy bore was all too familiar. 

**Sylesias did not go gently. Slipping her own dagger out from where it was hidden in her boot, she fought hard, but was unwilling to slay the man she loved. Holding him at knife-point, she pleaded with the pure half of his soul. Begging him to be the man she knew him to be, tears streaming down her face, she caught a glimpse of the real Khyren in the man’s eyes. But all was in vain.**

Her heart pounded and her chest heaved, trying to draw air into her tired body. Pidge tried to catch her breath, but she had no time. Kuron lunged at her once more and she slipped past him, landing a solid punch on his torso as she did so. Shiro would always almost beat her when they spared, but Kuron was different. He had his counterpart’s strength and agility, but he lacked any control whatsoever. Driven by chaos, he made too many mistakes against an opponent that took every opening she could.

“Please,” she exhaled heavily, “stop this.”

Kuron pressed his shoulder to the wall just in front of him and took several deep breaths. His Galra arm fell limp at his side and it’s purple glow faded away.

“I want to, you don’t understand,” a tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

“But I can! I can understand. You, me, we can figure this out. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

Pidge thought for a moment before withdrawing from her defensive stance and taking a step forward.

“Let me help you. Whatever that witch did to you I can undo,” she extended her hand towards him.

“I want to,” he shuddered. “I want to but-agh!” he yelled in pain. “No! This ends here!”

His arm lit up once more and in a single movement he covered their distance, arm going straight through the spot where her head was. It nearly clipped her cheek, but she was too fast. Able to predict his movements before he made them, she stayed one step ahead. But it was wearing her out fast. She wasn’t sure she had the physical strength to keep going. The fight had to end. As he twisted to throw a punch with his human arm, she slipped to his side and gave the back of his knee a hard kick, sending him tumbling to the ground. Before he could react, she had his arm pinned behind his back, her hand pressed firmly against the back of his neck, effectively keeping his face against the ground.

“Shiro, listen to my voice. I need you to stay with me.”

He struggled to break free, but the pressure she applied to his joints was too much. Unless he was willing to break something, he was forced to stay still.

“Snap out of it!”

“You don’t understand!”

“What don’t I understand?” 

The wind shook the windows of the castle, threatening to tear the place down. Whether due to the thunderous noise or the heated emotions they didn’t know, but they were both yelling.

“I have no say over this! I have to do it!”

“No. You. Don’t.”

“Pidge!”

“Shiro, listen! Just fucking listen! That witch may have created you, but once born we are our own people. I know about you - the original you - and he had a terrible past and a terrible family but you know what he did? He moved past that all. He became a great man. And you know what? You come from that same great man! Just because  _ she _ made you doesn’t mean she has control anymore. You are in charge!”

“I-I-” he suddenly stopped struggling against her as his breathing grew shaky. “I don’t know if I can,” his words were barely audible over the storm.

“You can,” she relaxed her grip slightly to test his reaction, “And then we can go home. Together.”

“Don’t say it like that, Katie,” he sighed.

“I, um, what if I mean it?”

“I’m not him. You know that. And I think all along...I knew that.”

Letting go of his arm, she removed her knee from in between his kidneys and slipped off him to sit at his side. Curling her arms around her legs she spoke softly.

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t know,” he carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position beside her. “I’m a monster though. Bringing you here, hurting you...” he glanced up at the mural, “It’s not supposed to be me. I’m so sorry.”

On instinct, she reached out and touched his hand. That caused him to stare at her, and their eyes met. They stayed like that for quite a while. Pidge wondered to herself if she was just being foolish - if perhaps she was trying to find an answer for her unrequited love. It wasn’t her only concern, however. She questioned if Shiro - the real Shiro - would ever return. And not only that, but Kuron seemed to love her back. 

_I’m being cruel. Leading him on. This isn’t Shiro._ _Is it?_

It had only been a hunch that Kuron wasn’t the real Shiro. An assumption. Perhaps, she debated, Haggar had merely replaced his memories. Reprogrammed him to do her bidding. Perhaps it was Shiro after all.

Finally, she removed her gaze from his and turned it toward the mural. His eyes followed the direction of hers.

“Why did you pick this place?”

“I don’t know...I felt it calling to me...”

“That painting is of Princess Sylesias and the man she loved, Khyren. It’s from an old legend, a supposedly fictitious one. And yet I was told that Sylesias’s soul - her quintessence, if you will - stayed together to be reborn. Ten thousand years later, give or take a few thousand years.”

“That’s you?”

“It’s just superstition. Coincidence. But maybe we can learn something from the story. Maybe you are Shiro...and we just need to find your memories. To free you. The story says that the princess died trying to break her lover from a curse, but we won’t make the same mistake she did. We’ll get the help of the others. You can come home and we can end Haggar’s wicked scheme.”

Keeping her eyes on the painting, she saw him turn and study her face as he silently contemplated her words.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed it wasn’t you. I just...I couldn’t believe you would be cold to me, but,” she finally met his eyes once more and lifted her hand to gently stroke his cheek, “I was being self-centered and I’m sorry. Even if you don’t feel the same way about me after we fix anything, I’d go to the ends of the universe to help you.”

“Katie...”

“Katie!” they both snapped their heads to see the source of the voice.

There before them, eyes alight with fire, stood a man that looked exactly like Takashi Shirogane.

“You!” the Shiro next to her leapt to his feet, his Galra arm already glowing.

“Get away from her!”

**This part is all legend. The story says that the two were alone in the garden on that day, so there were no eyewitnesses. No one knows what actually happened, and many scholars think that Sylesias simply fell ill from a rare disease. And so in real life there was a tragedy, but it was not this outlandish fairytale that legends make it out to be.**

Lotor stood motionless in the hallway for a long time. Had anyone passed him, they’d think he saw a ghost. And in fact, the man he ran into was akin to that. Shiro - the true Shiro - dressed in dirty brown robes with specs of sand in his hair, had asked Lotor where Pidge went. Everything about the legend the emperor had told Pidge made sense in that moment. He gave Shiro a device he kept that could detect the tracker he’d placed on the imposter, and then Shiro had left without another word.

Of course Lotor was able to figure out that the Black Paladin of Voltron was not the man he said he was. The only thing he hadn’t been sure of was exactly who sent him and why. So, naturally, he’d kept close tabs on the imposter. But standing there, in that hall, a sudden fury ignited within his chest. The one in control of the clone had to be none other than the witch Haggar, and Lotor would end her for it. If she thought she could keep an eye on him, she had another thing coming.

With his revelation in mind, he furiously made his way to his ship, ready to get Pidge back and wipe the witch from reality for once and all, but a thought made him stop. Perhaps, he wondered, the little Shiro issue would take care of itself. After all, the two were likely to deal with each other. And if they didn’t, only one would survive. That one would be easy enough to deal with on his own.

Slowing his pace, Lotor thought carefully about his next actions. Tactically speaking, allowing things to play out at they naturally would was the best option for furthering his goals. There was just the matter of the beautiful woman trapped in the middle.

_There’s no reason for either of them to hurt her._ _Should Shiro win, she’ll be back. And the imposter...I’ll be able to find them._

Deciding to give it time to resolve itself, he turned to head back to his room. There really was no need to worry, he thought, only to wait until things reached a natural conclusion. Of course, a thought still rested in the back of his mind. The legend troubled him. But he comforted himself. Legends only had small seeds of truth in them anyway. And the only seed he saw in the situation was the imposter.

**But I digress. Legend holds that Princess Sylesias was a powerful alchemist. And this part, as far as I know, is true. She had great ability to manipulate quintessence. Seeing the struggle between the two halves of Khyren’s soul, she reached out to try and unify them.**

“You’re trying to take her from me!” Kuron’s eyes flared a bright yellow as he attacked Shiro.

“Don’t!” Pidge slid in front of Shiro and deflected Kuron’s arm with the Altean knife she’d kept hidden beneath her clothes.

“You were just waiting for him to get here! You were toying with me!” he attacked again but Shiro easily slipped past it.

Shiro’s metal hand met Kuron’s throat and pinned him against the wall with the mural on it.

“Don’t you dare hurt her.”

“You don’t even love her!” Kuron struggled to get the words out.

“Of course I do! How could I not?” Shiro replied.

“Shiro?” Pidge said without thinking.

He made the mistake of turning his head slightly at the confused tone in her voice. Taking his opportunity, Kuron drove his fist into Shiro’s stomach and shoved him back. They fell back together and Shiro hit the ground hard. Holding the advantageous position, Kuron raised his fist to finish the job, but before he could, he was knocked off the other man by the full force of Pidge’s body. Thinking quickly, she’d ran full speed at him and used her body as a ram. Stumbling, she managed to keep herself on her feet instead of falling with him.

“Enough!”

No one spoke. The sounds of heavy breathing accompanied those of the powerful storm and filled the room. Eyeing each other, the men carefully stood up, but no one made a move to attack. The yellow in Kuron’s eyes gradually faded and for a single, peaceful moment, the world seemed to stand still.

“Ku-Shiro. I meant everything I said,” Pidge said, her head turned to face Kuron. “And you,” she looked at Shiro, “we have a lot to discuss. But everyone - and I mean everyone - can come home. Fate does not guide our ending. The only curse here is that witch.”

For the first time since arriving, she saw Shiro’s eyes land on the painting, and he let out a soft gasp.

Not wanting to analyse what his reaction, or his previous words spoken in the middle of a heated battle, meant, she steadied the shaking that had begun in her body and spoke once more.

“The legend dies here.”

**The witch’s curse was far more powerful than the princess could ever imagine. Reuniting his soul was not possible, nor would it be enough. There was no imaginable solution to the terrible spell, so Princess Sylesias did the unthinkable: she drew the curse and all its horrendous might into her own body. Placing her lips on Khyren’s, she took the corruption from him.**

“You’re right,” Kuron spat, his voice rough and mangled, “it does.”

Eyes suddenly glowing more brightly yellow than they ever had before, he moved with a swiftness that was beyond human. With the predatory precision of a beast, he brushed past Pidge and threw a kick that sent Shiro flying into the floor. Before Pidge could register the  _ smack _ that accompanied Shiro’s impact with the ground, Kuron twisted to face her in a single motion and she was barely able to slip past it. Suspecting her ability to remain uninjured had something to do with the limited control he still had over himself, she called out.

“Shiro! You don’t want to do this!”

“These silly ideas you have...” he took a step toward her, his footing careful and precise as if he were a lion stalking its prey.

“This isn’t you, Shiro, you know it,” behind her she heard the real Shiro groan and stand, “this is just the witch’s curse.”

_ Curse? _

“What do you know of Altean alchemy?”

“A lot more than you’d think,” seemingly without reason, she relaxed her stance and stood up properly, as if she was talking to a friend and not in the middle of a fight for her and Shiro’s lives. “But if this is how it has to end, so be it.”

“Pidge no!” she heard Shiro call out from behind her.

Kuron’s smile stretched from ear to ear in a twisted, unnatural mockery of happiness. A single teardrop fell from his cheek and his the ground.

_ Sylesias, help me finish this. _

Taking his time, he lifted his Galra arm in front of his chest and let it radiate the purple of corrupted quintessence.

“So be it.”

He lunged forward, aiming for her head, but she was ready. Flipping her knife out from where it was pressed against her forearm, she turned her body ever-so-slightly and drew the hilt of her weapon to her chest. It was a warning, a precaution. And Kuron took the bait. His slight hesitation due to his preoccupation by her weapon allowed her to draw her free arm up and glide her palm down his attacking arm. The glow disappeared from it entirely.

Letting out a scream, Pidge felt a terrible fire head down her arm and fill her entire body. Her vision blurred, but through it she saw vivid, glowing lines of green all over her arms. They looked like scars, cutting deep into her body as if they were on fire. Breathing heavily, she tried to keep her balance and her consciousness. The luminescent green that filled the room faded and she met Kuron’s eyes. They were brown.

**Had the princess been successful, this would not be a tragedy. The corrupted quintessence flowed into her body from Khyren’s and it infected her. She fell to the ground, the curse slowly killing her. Khyren, left without a complete soul, unfortunately faced a similar fate. Their last moments were spent with their eyes on each other, hands intertwined as they laid in the middle of a bed of flowers.**

“Thank you,” Kuron whispered, a genuine smile on his face.

Pidge returned it, but her heart dropped when she looked down. There, dead center over his heart, her knife was embedded in his chest.

_ He didn’t move to avoid it. _

Pulling her hand back, she saw that it was coated with a deep red liquid. Her vision continued to blur and though she fought to stay awake, to help Kuron, she was unable to keep the darkness from overtaking her. Before she could stop it, she felt her muscles relax and her body fall, but she never felt it hit the ground. Only a comforting warmth that wrapped around her and brought her peace.

**And that’s how the Tragedy of Sylesias ends.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're probably thinking "wow can this get any angstier?" and the answer is yes! It can and it will! The next part will be short but it's, how you say, salt on the wounds. So hope you like the angst.
> 
> And thanks for reading this!


	4. The Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of Echo of Legends focuses on the part of the story that Lotor declined to tell Pidge. The Tragedy of Sylesias - a heartbreaking tale of an Altean princess that had a forbidden love for her knight, and the Altean prince that loved her - could have had a better ending, but it didn’t. What will happen this time around?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toast, thank you for patiently waiting. I hope you like it <3

_[Pictured: The Mural of Sylesias and Khyren. Art commissioned from the amazing and awesome @Fate221 on Tumblr/Insta!]_

Lotor sat motionless as Pidge left the room and pretended that he didn’t notice the pain in her voice or the way her forced smile hid the tears she was fighting to keep back. But he didn’t go after her. He merely watched as she slipped away, and a hole formed in his heart as he realized how unrequited his affections were. Dismissing the aching pain in his chest that grew more and more unbearable with each passing second, his mind wandered to the old book - old enough to have been crafted on thin material created from the mashed up trunks of trees - that he’d found. It was so old, and so rare, that it contained a fragment of the Tragedy of Slyesias that no other text he’d come across had.

**All stories have a seed of truth.**

_I have to tell her,_ Lotor repeated to himself over and over.

A cold sweat clung to his body, which ran, without any instruction from his mind, straight to the Green Lion’s hangar. He couldn’t shake the darkness that hung over him. Like the alarms on the Galra cruisers, a deep, primitive part of his mind went off, signaling with no apparent reason that there was impending danger. With all the experience he’d had fighting wars, Lotor knew better than to ignore it. Something terrible was about to happen, and he just knew it was going to happen to Pidge.

Lotor was prepared to fight for her. Shoving aside all the terrible possibilities that his mind presented, Lotor told himself that he’d do anything for her. He was so certain of it.

_I’ll do anything to make sure she’s safe and sound._

The prince truly believed in his conviction, and yet it still managed to shatter. All it took was the sight of someone he’d never met in person before but was all too familiar with. At the door the Green Lion’s hangar - where Pidge should’ve been but no longer was - Lotor met a man that identified himself as the real Takashi Shirogane.

**In the garden that day, as the lost text reveals, the lovers were not alone. Prince Demasias, full of grief and love and hope, had returned to Sylesias’s castle to find her and plead with her for her hand. He planned on promising her all the happiness she could ever find. But as he searched for her in the tower that bordered the garden, he spotted the maiden and her knight below. The way she looked at him...it was unbearable.**

Lotor’s fist clenched as he provided what little information he had to the man with the face, and yet without the demeanor, of the Black Paladin he had known. In as few words as possible, he revealed Pidge’s concern over a silly legend and Shiro’s brows pressed closer together than Lotor imagined possible. When asked where Pidge may have been taken, Lotor was at a loss for words.

_How am I supposed to know, you damn fool?_

And then it occurred to him - the mural. The painting that had caused him to reconsider his view on the famous Altean Tale and the Green Paladin’s concern. He knew of one place that was rumored to hold the original, but as far as he knew it had long since been destroyed. And yet there was a slight chance, if only the old star maps he’d spent years pouring over were correct. Tempted to lie to Shiro and take the chance to save Pidge himself, but he knew it would not reflect well on his character should he be found out. Resigning himself to fate, he informed the man of his suspicions and watched as Shiro turned and ran to get himself a ship so he could find Pidge.

_My mother has something to do with this,_ he thought, staring at the back of the new Shiro’s head as he went off to save his princess. The loud _thud_ of Shiro’s shoes made Lotor’s eyebrows twitch.

_Who cares which one is real. Maybe they’ll kill each other and all my problems will be taken care of._

He was torn. There he was, standing in the same place where moments prior he had been fully prepared to do whatever it took to make sure Pidge was safe, and yet after seeing another Shiro clearly desperately in love with her, he was perfectly still. His envy consumed him, tearing his heart apart piece by piece while his eyes focused on Shiro’s departure. But he was not equipped to face the truth of his feelings, and so he lied to himself. _This battle isn’t mine to fight._

As each boot hit the floor, one after another over and over again, Lotor thought about how loud the echoes in the halls were so late at night. Under the guise of stillness, the dark passageways took it upon themselves to magnify any signal of life. But it was a lie. Like the castle, Lotor put on the appearance of calmness while a storm brewed deep inside. He pursed his lips, reflecting on all he’d told the fair Green Paladin, and a sharp stabbing pain in his chest kept him from dismissing his guilt. He told himself it didn’t matter. Whether or not Pidge knew about the true ending to the tragedy, it was only a story. There wasn’t a chance in all the heavens that it would matter.

_How could it?_

**And then he saw Khyren’s face. Prince Demasias was not the cruel person his mother was, but her magic flowed through him. He recognized the curse, and understood how to stop it, but he hesitated.**

Unlike everyone else in the castle, Lotor was not asleep when the message came over the intercoms. Allura’s voice filled his room, although her message was not directed personally towards him. No sooner than she conveyed her horrifying message, Lotor was on his feet, the book he’d been obsessed with tossed aside like it was nothing. Pidge was back, and for some reason she was headed to the healing pods.

The prince was silent as Shiro - the _real_ Shiro, as it had been established - gently lowered the Green Paladin into a healing pod. He made no movement to help, he only starred. Initially, upon seeing Shiro take his proper place in lieu of whatever diabolical abomination Haggar had created, Lotor was struck with a strong sense of rivalry. Where the Shiro’s imposter had been cold and cruel to Pidge, this true Shiro was soft and kind. Lotor saw it in Shiro’s eyes the moment the man walked through the door carrying the bundled up Pidge in his arms. It made him hesitant to move and it was awkward - he felt the least bit wanted in the entire room. His desire to ensure Pidge’s safety won in the situation, however, and so he stayed, silently standing in the back of the group of people who had gathered, all talking in hushed, worried tones.

However, it was not Shiro’s mere presence that reduced the prince to a frozen state. Rather, the moment the paladin had set Pidge down into the healing pod, he stepped to her side and Lotor was able to see the pattern of scars running all over her body. They were not the work of any weapon known to him, and yet they turned her flesh a deep green color. It was unlike any tattoos or alien markings he’d ever seen. They weren’t a vibrant color, but the mark of injury. It looked almost as if they’d been burnt into her skin, only as far as he knew, human flesh didn’t scar that color. Despite their unknown origin, the sight of the scars made Lotor’s stomach turn and threaten to empty itself. He recognized the pattern from the ancient texts - these were, without a doubt, the same marks that past Altean alchemists bore. Seemingly because of them, Pidge was dying, and it was all Lotor’s fault.

The voices of the paladins and their companions faded into the background as Lotor’s mind raced. _How is it possible? Has that witch cursed her?_ He grasped for answers but could find none spare those hidden in the legend. If Pidge truly was the reincarnation of Sylesias, it was possible that she was able to manipulate quintessence just as she had in her former life, if only for but a moment. Taking such an action - and against a creature imbued with the dark, corrupted energy of Haggar herself - would be not only risky, but likely lethal. He couldn’t imagine such a thing being possible and didn’t understand why Pidge would even attempt it. And yet there she sat in the pod, her body as still as a statue, and her breathing slowed almost to a halt. With the pod angled almost horizontal to the floor, she looked like she could be the work of a talented Altean sculptor. As for his mother’s monster...no one seemed to be discussing the other cryo pod that had been used upon Shiro’s arrival, shrouded in a dark cloth as if to prevent even its existence from acknowledgement.

If the legend was true, then how did it reflect upon Lotor’s actions? His selfishness? And what part did he play in the story? He dared not dwell on the last question, for he was certain of the answer.

All conversation stopped and the eyes in the room turned on him. Shiro had said something, but Lotor wasn’t sure what. Normally the embodiment of composure, Lotor himself questioned if he had said or done something to draw everyone’s attention, but Shiro’s next statement answered that matter clearly.

“You’ve been quiet, but you know something about this, don’t you?”

Shiro’s voice was calm, but Lotor had lived long enough to know that it concealed a threat.

“I barely know what’s going on here,” Lotor voiced. It was partially true as he hadn’t pieced together the entirety of what went down between the Shiros and Pidge.

“You told me about the Altean legend,” Shiro said before pausing.

Lotor expected anger in the man’s voice, but what it held instead was fear.

“I saw the mural. I don’t know what Pidge did,” Shiro placed a hand on the transparent cover of her pod, “but it had something to do with that story you told.”

“These are Altean markings,” Allura added softly.

Once more, the room was completely still. Lotor understood. No one wanted to point fingers quite yet, but they were also not prepared to accept the reality of two funerals.

“All the legend said was that, in an effort to save the person she loved, a very powerful Altean alchemist used her own life force - her quintessence - and she failed. The corrupted quintessence was overpowering and...” Lotor stopped, unable to finish.

“There’s got to be something we can do,” Shiro kept his eyes down at Pidge and Lotor saw water bead up on the pod’s glass before running down in small streams.

He felt the corners of his own eyes get wet.

Lotor started to speak, but a thought inside him prevented any sound from coming out.

_She’s always going to be his,_ it said as Lotor watched Shiro stand over Pidge’s pod.

_At least this way we don’t have to see them together,_ he tore his eyes away.

_It’s just a story anyway. A coincidence. Or maybe Haggar’s way of fucking with us._

Lotor looked down at his palm and thought of the book he’d been holding. Long ago, he had studied in Haggar’s arts. He was supposed to be her prodigy - the greatest weapon that the empire had ever known.

_You were both just weapons._

_You can’t save her._

_And even if you do, she loves him._

Lotor clenched his fist so tightly he felt his nails dig into his skin and draw blood.

**He thought, perhaps, that Sylesias would strike Khyren down - that she would come to him for comfort after this horrendous experience. He felt the voice of his mother in his ear, telling him to let the curse come to its natural conclusion. That Sylesias would be his queen.**

“Lotor,” the only remaining Altean princess walked up to him and took his fist in her hand. “Please. You have more knowledge about ancient Altean culture than any of us.”

Lotor looked into her eyes and for a moment there, he felt nothing. As if his heart had shut off and all his emotion had been whisked away, he was numb to the world. But a voice called him back.

“I don’t know you, Lotor. But Allura does. And if she believes you can help us then I believe it to. Please. Pidge is your teammate too.”

Lotor looked between Shiro and Allura, and then to Pidge’s pod. His gazed stopped there, studying the curve of her face and the way that her bangs fell into her eyes. She truly was the spitting image of Sylesias, in both actual appearance and character. Legend or not - curse or not - she, like the princess, had given herself in order to save the person she loved. What could be said of Lotor if he didn’t do the same?

“She doesn’t have much time left.”

Coran’s words echoed in his head.

**Prince Demasias had been warped by the witch’s magic. The pure heart he possessed at birth had been corrupted over time. And so he did nothing. He waited for the princess to be his. He longed for her love, for her touch, and his envy overpowered him.**

Lotor’s boots clicked against the castle’s floor and his mind conveniently reminded him how different the sound was in a Galra ship. How different things had been since he’d come to the castle. Of course he’d had all sorts of plans but in that moment, all his heart told him was that things were better. Sure, not everyone trusted him, but he’d began gaining the trust of the one woman that mattered. And here she was. Dying on his account.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Those were the words that he had dismissed himself with. They weren’t a promise. The prince found himself torn, still unable to decide what to do. The thoughts inside him swirled and fought between action and inaction. It wasn’t fair. He knew it wasn’t fair. Shiro had been a replacement. His mother - no, the witch Haggar, had only seen failure in the boy she’d raised as her final weapon and so she found another one. A stronger one. A better man in every single way. It wasn’t fair. Shiro was everything Lotor wasn’t but wanted to be, including Pidge’s soulmate.

**But the prince underestimated Sylesias’s love. She did the unimaginable. She attempted to fix the curse by sacrificing her own quintessence. Fear filled his eyes as he watched her waste her life. He tried to call out, but the overpowering energy of the deed silenced him. Only he, the child of magic so dark and powerful as to bind Khyren with such a curse, could break it. It was not a matter of quintessence or alchemy, but of a birthright twisted by the abyss.**

Lotor bursted into his own room and snatched his book off that bed.

_That witch took everything from me and I wasn’t good enough. I’m not letting her ridiculous curse ruin things for all of us over and over again for all eternity._

He felt the darkness in his own heart and he told it to go fuck itself.

Flipping the book to the pages about the tale, he found it provided enough detail that he was able to extrapolate the rest. Grabbing this and that off of his shelves, and a few odd items here and there to make due for what he lacked, Lotor prepared for the ritual he’d have to perform. It had to be him, he knew as his heart pounded in his chest. His body warned against it, warned against facing _her_ , but his mind had other plans. Pushing through the cold fear that overwhelmed his body, causing his muscles to shake, he finished laying everything out around him. It was an old ritual that hadn’t been used in thousands of years, and as such it was more physical in nature.

Using the eerily glowing purple substance Hunk had assured him was a useful medicinal remedy, Lotor drew his sigils out on the floor, using the ancient Altean markings where he could and making up for the ones he didn’t know with more modern ones. When he was done, he kneeled in the center of three concentric circles filled with symbols. Lights sat on the outer circle - various odd glowing bobbles, electronics he’d “repurposed,” and even a few plants he’d kept on his nightstand served to replace the candles that the old Alteans used. In front of him was the book, open to the page the quite clearly displayed the ritual’s opening poem.

“Time to take that witch down.”

Lotor read the words over three times in his mind before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and then beginning.

**The prince turned away from the window. It is said that he shed a single tear - not for Sylesias or the curse or even guilt - but as a result of the crack that had finally grown large enough to shatter that which was good in his heart. Prince Demasias turned his back on Sylesias and walked away. If he couldn’t have her, then he thought it better that no one have her at all.**

When Lotor opened his eyes again, he was in an unfamiliar place. It was an expanse that seemed to go forever, decorated in far off clouds of purple and stars that belonged to no particular galaxy. As far as he’d understood it, the ritual had worked, but Haggar was nowhere to be found. Unsure what to do next, he called out.

“Come now, _mother_ , don’t you want to see your only son?”

Despite being in a climateless environment, he felt a cool wind on the back of his neck. It was followed by an echoing laughter. Turning his head carefully, he was unable to pinpoint the source of the sound. The sound felt forced and unnatural - simultaneously surrounding him and yet originating from some undefinable point. He attempted to clench his weapon, only to realize that he was without any means of defense in this place beyond the physical realm.

“Why are you here boy?”

Haggar’s rough voice still sends chills down his spine. He wants to lash out and scream that he’s not a child anymore, but the action would only contradict itself. Instead, he carefully picks out his words.

“Your corrupted magic has had a heavy impact on many lives. I need you to break the curse.”

“Curse?”

Her words are followed by laughter, mocking him. Still, Lotor keeps his breath steady and his stance loose. He is not prepared to lose this contest of wills.

“It seems I know something you don’t,” he taunts. _Of course she wouldn’t call it a curse. It was a curse when the witch placed it long ago in lives past, and it was a curse when it corrupted Slyesias’s soul, condemning her, but Haggar doesn’t know that. She doesn’t realize that her actions now were caused by something she did so many lifetimes before._

There’s no response to his words.

“What did you do to the Black Paladin?”

Again, no response. This time, however, Lotor feels an indescribable darkness behind him. Slowly, so as to not reveal his true feelings as told by his racing heart and cold sweat, he turns to face the woman that was his mother. She’s not happy. In fact, her face is twisted into an expression of fury.

“An experiment gone wrong. But you know all about that, don’t you?

Lotor snarls and then immediately regrets it, knowing he fell for her provocation. She laughs in response and it’s that same cold, cruel laugh that haunted his nightmares as a child.

“Not all experiments go the way their makers intend,” he takes a deep breath and feels his markings, which are hidden by his natural skin color, grow hotter.

Quintessence flows through him, just as it did when he was a child, and once more he remembers what true power feels like.

_Oh I missed this._

He lashes out at the witch, tired of the games she’s apparently played for far longer than 10,000 years. She mocks him, evading his attack easily and appearing behind him.

“I thought you swore to never use my ‘dirty magic’ when you left,” she says, and he knows it’s a challenge.

It’s true. The energy that flows through him isn’t pure. It’s intertwined with a twisted wickedness that calls to his primitive being. After having a true taste of power, he hungers for more. Every inch of his body aches for it. _More. More. More,_ the thoughts swirled around his head. They’re almost nauseating. But Lotor remembers what happens to people consumed by the corruption, so he stands upright and lets the energy go.

“You’re still such a weak boy,” it’s Haggar’s turn to unleash her full power.

Dangerous quintessence comes at him like electricity, threatening to kill him, but it does absolutely no harm. By emptying his body of the majority of the dark energy it stored, Lotor is, for a brief moment, able to harness Haggar’s own magic and redirect it towards her. It is by no means enough to stop her, but it is enough to create an opening. Moving as she screams in pain, he is able to make sure of that split-second’s distraction and thrust his fist into her shadowy form. His fist meets something solid feeling and he reaches out, ripping it from her body in one single movement. She yells in fury, but before she can seize it from him, he looks down at the thing and snaps it in half. What must have been some sort of necklace turns completely black and then fades into nonexistence. When Lotor looks up, he sees Haggar come at him, and then he opens his eyes.

All around him, the circles and sigils glow so brightly it almost blinds him. Lotor keels over, panting hard with sweat dripping off of his body. Every muscle aches for the power that he so briefly held, and it takes all of his being to resist calling it back. There will always be some of her dark energy in him, he knows, but in that moment Lotor decides to fight against it. His is rewarded with a simultaneous sensation of having both a fever and chills. Folding in on himself, he clutches his knees to his chest and watches as his room grows darker and darker, the light from the ritual fading. Whatever that necklace was, it had something to do with the witch’s hold over him, Pidge, and Shiro. His vision blurry, he manages to still bring his palm in front of his face, overcome with the desire to make sure that he’s still not holding the object. He doesn’t think it was ever real - existing only symbolically in the astral plane - but he has to be certain.

_We did what we couldn’t do before_ , a voice that is both a part of him and completely foreign, says in his mind.

It’s the last thing that goes through his head before he blacks out.

**And so goes the lost tale of Demasias, an amendment to the Tragedy of Sylesias. It is the tale of a prince that loved a princess so much, and yet not at all.**

Lotor, son of Zarkon and Emperor of the Galra, was wide awake the following night. Sitting beside Pidge’s healing pod, he watched over her silent, sleeping body. He had volunteered to give Shiro a break after the man went nearly 24 hours straight without sleeping, insisting that he had to watch Pidge. It took quite an effort to convince Shiro to leave, but, with Matt’s help, Lotor had managed to do it. So there he sat, the ruler of a universe of people, at the side of Pidge’s sickbed, waiting for her to awake.

She had been stable since the previous morning. When Lotor finally woke up and was able to stand, he had returned to her side with the rest of the paladins and was given the good news. Her condition had stabilized. She was going to make it. They asked him if he found out anything and he had paused, thinking about what he was going to say.

“Only a contextual commentary on that legend Pidge was concerned with. It just mentioned that the tale was based on an older myth that the first Altean civilizations had written, and modified by some poet to be more “modern.” She picked Sylesias to use in the adaptation. In the original myth, the princess’s love saved her by praying to the gods and they were granted a happy life together.”

It was a lie, but he was not prepared to tell the truth. Thankfully, they accepted it.

“This was all just a game setup by Haggar, then,” he had added, glancing over at the veiled body.

That part was not actually a lie at all.

With everyone’s minds put at rest, Lotor went off on his own for a while to think about what he was going to do from that point on. It was then that he reached a conclusion. In the middle of the night, with the lid to Pidge’s healing pod opened after her considerable improvement, he sat by her side and decided to tell her the conclusion he’d come to. She was the only one he intended to ever tell, and only in that moment while she lay asleep and resting.

“I’ve always loved you,” he began. “It seems I’m cursed to do so.”

He gently brushed her bangs to the side, moving them from over her closed eyes. She looked like a princess. Or rather, he thought, a goddess.

“I hope you can forgive me for not protecting you sooner.”

Delicately, so as to not wake her, he placed his hand on top of hers.

“I finally did what I was too broken to do before. I ended it for you. For us. Ended for all eternity.”

Drawing his hand back, he got up from his seat and bent down on one knee, hanging his head before her.

“I think fate got it wrong. I may be the prince, but I was meant to be your knight. And I will be. Forever. I vow here and now that I will always protect you no matter what. Never again will my conviction waiver. It does not matter if you do not love me in return. I will always love you. And I promise to protect you and your love for your true prince in this life and in every other.”

And Lotor meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's not as angsty as it could've been. I couldn't kill Pidge off ;n; but I wanted to resolve the love triangle. Anyway thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! I don't write super angst very often!
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> PS:
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> You can find me on Tumblr at [@olkarianprincess](https://olkarianprincess.tumblr.com)


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